Short stories and Five minute fics
by FizzyWater
Summary: Different Mashfics, chapters can be read in any order. Chapters 33, 34, 35, 36 and 37 added. Come on people, feedback, please.::slash::
1. Author's notes

These stories are all slash. Each chapter is a separate story and they're all  
finished. You can read them in any order you want and I'd love feedback on  
all of them. Feedback is better than sex. ;-)  
And, I don't own anything.   
****  
  
Thanks for the feedback. :) 


	2. Decision

"Untitled"  
After the war, Peg's POV.  
  
I don't know why I wasn't shocked. Any normal person would be shocked  
and mad. Any normal person would scream something but I just stood   
there, smiling.  
I was a little shocked, but that was more to do with the fact that I wasn't  
shocked. I wasn't mad. What I saw was exactly what I expected to see   
before I opened the door. Other people would be angry if they saw their  
husband in bed with someone else. Other people would definitely be angry   
if they saw their husband in bed with their best friend.  
Their husband's best friend, their male best friend. But, all I could do was   
smile.   
  
The war had ended about 6 months earlier and Bj had been back the same   
amount of time. And ever since he got back there I noticed something   
different about him. He'd changed. I suppose everyone changes after being   
in the middle of the war so I didn't really think about it too much. He told   
Erin and me how much loved us and I believed him, I still do, but I always   
got this feeling he also loved someone else.  
At first I thought he'd had an affair with a Korean woman but I soon went   
of that idea. Ever since he'd been back he and Hawkeye would phone each   
other about 3 times a week.  
They'd be on the phone for about an hour and I'd only hear one side of it,  
but it sounded like they weren't really saying anything interesting.   
Sometimes it sounded like they talking about the times in Korea and other   
times there would be long silences which neither seemed to mind.  
  
About three months ago, they were on the phone again, Bj suddenly jumped   
up and shouted that we were going to Maine for a week. Hawkeye had just   
told him that he was getting married, to the headnurse of the 4077,  
a Margaret Houlihan. I'd heard of her and how she and Hawkeye had hated   
each other at first. Bj seemed happy for them but at the same time I   
couldn't help notice that he was jealous.  
  
When we arrived at the house in Crabapple cove, Bj was jumping around like  
a little kid, saying how great it was he was seeing Hawkeye again. When I   
met Hawkeye he gave me a hug and a kiss that felt like any other hug and   
kiss you get from someone you've just met. Then he hugged and kissed Bj.   
There was something different about that.  
Ok, he knew Bj and Bj knew him so it wouldn't be "stranger hug and kiss",   
but there was something different.  
As though neither wanted to let go, as though they both wanted to be doing  
more than hugging.  
  
I met Margaret and we got on really well. In the week before the wedding   
we became very good friends. I tried to bring it up but I wasn't sure how to  
say it. I couldn't go say that I had this feeling my husband had feelings for  
her future husband. And stronger feelings than bestfriendfeelings. She was   
sure Hawkeye loved her. I'm sure Hawkeye loved her, just like Bj does me.  
  
Every night after dinner, Bj and Hawkeye made a silly excuse about going for   
a walk and left Margaret and me to do the washing up. I always thought   
they did a lot more than just walk on those "walks" but ofcource I never   
said anything.  
  
Others from the 4077 arrived on the day of the wedding and there was a   
little reunion. I watched Hawkeye hug and kiss everyone who came in,   
people he knew just like he knew Bj but not one hug or kiss had that vibe   
that theirs had.  
  
After the "you may kiss the bride" bit the tragic event happened. No one   
could've stopped it, no one could've prevented it. No one could've done  
anything to make it different. There were 5 doctors in the room, but  
nothing could be done. Hawkeye's father just dropped dead, his heart just   
stopped. Ofcource everyone was shocked and no one knew how to react.   
In the end everyone ended up staying for  
the funeral and then everyone left. Hawkeye and Margaret still went on   
their honeymoon, trying to make the best of it.  
  
About a month after the wedding/funeral, so 2 months ago, Bj asked me if  
I would mind if Hawkeye and Margaret would come to stay with  
us. There was nothing keeping Hawkeye in Crabapple Cove anymore and I   
didn't mind if they were here. I liked Margaret and maybe Bj would be   
happier too.  
  
From the very first day they were here they did their "after dinner walk"   
thing. I'd notice how they'd touch each other in passing, barely touching   
really. But sparkles seemed to fly. I wondered if I was the only one who   
noticed it but Margaret didn't mention anything. She believed Hawkeye   
loved her more than anything else.   
  
I believe Bj when he says he loves me but I don't believe I'm the only one.  
  
Tonight we were watching some film on the television. I don't remember   
which one. Suddenly Bj announced he was going to the bathroom and he   
stared directly at Hawkeye as though it was a hidden message. A few   
seconds after Bj had left the room, Hawkeye said he was going to make a   
snack in the kitchen. After about 20 minutes neither were back. Margaret   
hadn't noticed or maybe she didn't want to notice. I made an excuse about   
checking on Erin and went upstairs.  
  
The first room was that of Bj and me, it was empty. The next room was   
the bathroom, that was empty too. Just like I thought it would be. Next was   
Erin's. Erin was fast asleep. I quietly closed the door again and went to the   
next one. That of Hawkeye and Margaret. I stood at the door for a second   
and listened. I could hear a faint breathing. The door was only open a little   
crack but I could just see in. What I saw was exactly what I was excpecting   
to see.  
  
I don't know why I wasn't shocked. Any normal person would be shocked  
and mad. Any normal person would scream something but I just stood   
there, smiling. I was a little shocked, but that was more to do with the fact that I wasn't shocked.  
I wasn't mad. What I saw was exactly what I expected to see before I   
opened the door.  
Other people would be angry if they saw their husband in bed with someone   
else. Other people would definitely be angry if they saw their husband in bed   
with their best friend. Their husband's best friend, their male best friend.   
But, all I could do was smile.   
  
The way I saw it I had two options. One, open the door and wake them up   
and try to look shocked and angry and two, go back downstairs and carry   
on watching the film. I decided to go with number two.  
  
I left them there and quietly went back downstairs. 


	3. Nobody ever

Five minute fic: "Nobody ever..."  
  
Nobody ever could've know. Nobody could've suspected anything.  
Nobody had a reason to suspect something. But something had been   
happening ever since the war ended. And that was 20 years ago now.  
For 20 years they'd been living a secret double life. They'd been lying to   
their families and flying to each other every few weekends for the last 20   
years. Every time going to a different hotel so that no one would see them   
twice in the same place. And then they'd go home and tell their families   
what they hadn't done. They'd tell them about the meetings they hadn't   
been to, the new techniques they hadn't learnt. And then they'd call each   
other and say the same things they'd told their families. But it'd   
mean something else. If they were sure no one else was listening they'd  
whisper an 'I love you' in somewhere.   
For the last 20 years their lives had been perfect, difficult, but perfect.  
  
And now it had all come to an end.   
Their families, the ones they loved, had found out.  
And the day they found out, couldn't have been worse. Erin's wedding.  
What was supposed to be a happy day was one the worst days in history.   
Maybe even worse than the first day of the war.   
  
Everyone from the 4077th was there. They tried not to do anything.   
They tried to ignore each other. Staring in front of them, talking to other   
people about other people. They'd planned a dirty weekend in two weeks   
time. They'd have to wait until then. But they still had a party to get through.   
People started noticing how they ignored each other, how they changed   
the subject when the other one was mentioned. People started wondering  
if they'd had some kind of a fight, sometime in the last 20 years.  
Soon people were plotting ways to get them to make up. They got them   
both together a put them in a room. "you're not coming out, unless you're   
friends again!" But they were friends, they were more than friends. There   
was nothing to make up. There was a bed. So, what else were they  
supposed to do?  
  
No one was supposed to come in. No one had said anything about coming in   
while they were in there. But they'd heard laughing. One of them had laughed   
at something the other one had said or done. Laughed a bit too loud. And   
ofcource someone had heard.  
  
"hey, we said you could come out when you were..."  
  
There was no where to hide, no lies to make up, nothing to do that could  
make it seem differently. It looked like everyone stood at the door, looking shocked  
at them in bed. And now everybody knew.  
  
The end. lalala 


	4. Places

Five minute fic "Oh, Tokyo, ..."  
  
"Places"  
"Oh, Tokyo, Tokyo, where art thou Tokyo?"  
"Oh, Tokyo", he thought. Why couldn't he be in Tokyo right now?   
Instead of Tokyo he was stuck in tent with two other people. Even better   
than Tokyo would've been his parents' large house in Boston. But as he   
didn't have magical powers he was stuck here, in the Swamp. He never   
thought in a million years that he'd end up living in a tent, nevermind one  
called the Swamp. The two people sharing with him didn't make it much  
better.  
They were there before he arrived and he didn't feel very welcome at first.   
He noticed almost immediately that there was something more going on  
between those two. Something much more than friends or jokers-in-arms.  
And it was obvious to the rest of the people there knew about it, even   
if they did act as though they didn't.  
Right now his two tentbuddies where sitting one cot eating bits of biscuit the   
wife of one them had sent and drinking their homemade gin. One of them   
was also holding a photo and saying how much he missed the people on it.  
He was complaining about how unfair it was that he was missing his  
daughter's first everything.   
They were both getting drunker by the second and moving closer together   
every two seconds.  
Charles wanted to make a comment about it but wasn't sure what   
comment would have had to be made in a situation like that. Especially as,  
if he was honest, it looked right. The two of them, almost sitting on top of  
each other now, drunk and talking about who and what they missed, looked   
perfect together. And Charles couldn't help feeling out of place.   
Yes, right now, Tokyo would've been a better place to be. 


	5. Section 8

Short fic: "Section 8"  
I sit here in my tent working om my latest creation. I know it won't help me   
get a section 8 but I still carry on making these things. And I still wear them.   
And I do it for you and you don't even notice.  
I know this is your favourite colour. I asked you but you probably don't   
remember.  
"would you rather have green bread or blue potatoes?"  
You chose the potatoes.  
I see you working in OR and I get jealous watching you. I'm not jealous of   
you, I'm jealous of the patient lying there. No one will ever get any closer to  
them than you do and they don't even realise it.  
While I'm sitting here I imagine that I'm the material and you're me. The   
scissors are a scalpel cutting through my skin. And then when I start sewing   
it up I can almost feel the needle going through me. I think about you, about   
the pain that this is causing me and I try to imagine what you feel, causing   
me this pain. But, you don't know so you can't feel bad.  
I want to wear this for the movie tomorrow night. You'll see me, you always  
do.  
You'll make a comment about it but you won't realise it's for you I'm   
wearing it. You won't realise the pain I went through and go through every   
day I'm here.  
Maybe I should tell someone all this. Who knows, it might just get me my   
section 8. 


	6. Somwhere out there

Five minute fic: "Somewhere out there..."  
  
Somewhere out there, you're sitting playing with your daughter not   
thinking of me while I'm somewhere out here, playing with no one   
thinking of you the whole time. What you're doing and when you're doing it.  
I live my life 3 hours behind everyone else. No one understands why my   
mind isn't here. Why 8am is actually 11am and why I kick my self at night   
for not being there with you. And I hope you kick yourself for not being   
here with me but I know you won't because you're too busy with  
the other things in your life. A daughter and a wife aren't things, but it's   
easier to think they are. You can just throw things away if you're  
bored with them. Throw them away and come here.  
But you can't, and you won't. You'll never come here, because for you,  
you're already "here" and for you I'm not "here", I'm somewhere out there. 


	7. You're it

"You're it"   
  
It had been a perfect day. There wasn't any show of a war, there wasn't a smell of blood or death,   
it was as though nature had decided enough was enough, got rid of everything that could've been  
related to the war in anyway and left us with a warm sunny day. If we hadn't been in the middle  
of a war, everything would've been perfect.  
We were like a buch of kids at summercamp, feeling homesick but having some fun, something   
that didn't happen a lot here, the having fun part.  
There hadn't been wounded for about 3 days and there weren't any planned for at least   
another 2 so most of our time was spent trying to have some fun. On the third day, the warmest and   
sunniest of all three we were playing silly games like hide and seek and tick. We'd been playing tick for a while  
and Hawkeye was it. For some reason he had it out for me and chasted me all round camp. He finally caught up with  
me, grabbed me and we both fell down. He was lying right on top of me and as we stared in each others eyes the whole  
world around us disapeared. If it hadn't been Hawkeye lying on top of me, but a nurse, or Peg, I would've kissed him.   
Suddenly Hawkeye leaned in but at that point Radar announced choppers so we quickly got up  
and went to work. I still heard Hawkeye curse under his breath.  
  
During the time operating I tried to go over what had happened. But I couldn't make any sense  
of it. Why on earth would I want to kiss Hawkeye. I'm a married man, a happily married man.   
  
As the time in Or passed and more and more wounded came in my mind was in a million places  
  
::Do I love Hawkeye?::  
  
::Have I taken all the shrapnel out?::  
  
::Why would I want to kiss Hawkeye?::  
  
::Is this the 30th patient? Or the 300?::  
  
::Why would I want Hawkeye to kiss me?::  
  
::Clamp, I need a clamp::  
  
"Nurse, clamp"  
  
::How many wounded would there still be out there?::  
  
"there's are the last, sir. No more after this."  
  
::Radar, dammit, what else did he hear me think. Was I thinking it? No one's looking weird::  
  
::I was probably going to ask it and Radar just knew before I did::  
  
Finally after an endless time in Or we dragged our selves back to the Swamp. Charles went   
to the Officers club so we were alone. we were both sitting on Hawkeye's bunk, shoulders touching with a drink in our hand.  
  
"earlier..."  
  
"when?"  
  
"before, the uh, wounded came"  
  
"seems so long ago"  
  
"it's been a couple of days''  
  
"but when you caught me, were you, uhm...""  
  
"was I what?"  
  
"if no one else had been around, would you've..."  
  
"would I what?"  
  
"never mind."  
  
"ok."  
  
"Am I it, now?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"you caught me, then the wounded came, so am I it now?"  
  
"oh, you're it, Beej, you'll always be it. You are definitly it." 


	8. Why I hate the night

"Why I hate the night"  
  
All that glitters here is the blood of the wounded when the light shines on it  
in a way that makes it seem like a nice thing. It makes you forget, for a   
second, where it came from. And why it came at all. The sight of blood in   
the moonlight is completely different to the sight of blood in the day time.   
Somehow it's more bearable during the day. When it's a clear blue sky you   
don't see things that aren't there.   
At night it plays tricks on your mind. The way the moonlight jumps on to   
the shrapnel making it shine like silver. Allmost making you want to leave it  
exactly where it is.  
I hate glitter now. I used to like it. It used to be one of the good things in  
life. If it glittered it meant it was ok.   
Little girls dressed as princesses with glitter in their hair.  
Or the way the moonlight would shine on water.  
It all meant good things.  
Now glitter is bad. Especially at night. The moonlight on the water won't   
ever be as nice as it used to be again.  
If this ever ends and I go home I'll never be able to look at glitter in the   
same way again. It will always remind me of the pain and the blood of the   
war.   
I hate the night now. 


	9. And you say that

5 minute fic.  
  
"And you say that..."  
  
And you say that everything stays the same.  
That one day you'll be back here with me and our daughter.   
you say that there's nothing to keep you there. It's only a war.  
If there wouldn't be a war, you wouldn't be there and you would've never  
met the people you have met. But there is a war and you are there and you  
did meet the people you met. One person in particular. One person that's  
changing your life. Every single bit of it, without even realising that he's doing  
it.  
I read it in your lettres. You mention him more and more in every lettre. The   
first few lettres it was just "one of the guys that share the swamp" then it  
changed to "Hawkeye" but mostly it's just "Hawk" now. The last lettre had  
his name 50 times. I counted.  
He's the most important thing in your life right now. Even if you do say that I  
am. That Erin is. I know better.  
When it ends, and it will, you'll come back here. because that's the way it's  
supposed to be. You'll pretend to be happy to be here. But you won't be.  
In your mind you'll always be in the Swamp. And Hawkeye'll always be  
around. 


	10. Colours

5 minute fic: "black and white..."  
  
"Colours"  
Black and white are movies on movie night. My dreams about home are also  
black and white. Things that don't seem real are never in colour.  
The war is real. Blood is red, so it's real. The tents in the compound are   
green, so they're real.  
The wounded, even though they sometimes look really white, are real.   
Even today, Easterday, it's all real.  
But today there's also some colour. Some colour that's real and good.   
Chocolate easter eggs. They have pretty coloured wrappings. Blue ones,  
purple ones, yellow ones and orange ones.  
The local kids are running around looking for them.   
They'll dream in colour tonight. So will I, I hope. 


	11. Grey areas

This is weird and doesn't really make any sense but I like it when things are  
weird and don't make any sense. So, that's ok. :)  
It could be either BJ's Pov or Trapper's. You choose.  
  
"Grey areas"  
Black and white, two opposites such as night and day, North Koreans and  
South Koreans, my life before the war and my life after the war. They're all  
so different from each other but they all have something that makes them  
related. They all have a grey area, were it isn't quite clear what it exactly is.  
The time between day and night when isn't quite dark yet but it isn't light   
enough to see anymore.  
Korea was my grey area. Things were different there. They weren't so clear  
as they were before the war.   
The way I thought about lots of things changed during my time in Korea.  
I'm not quite sure if they changed for the better. But I'm happy they did   
change.  
  
If everything would be black and white then life would be too simple. Too  
straight forward. There would be no ifs or buts, everything would be the   
same. That's why we need grey areas. Places where it isn't quite black or  
white.  
  
In a way, I'm glad I came to Korea. It would've been a beautiful country if  
it was because of the war. It's thanks to Korea I realised my grey area is   
more important to me than my black and white are.  
  
It's a pity my wife doesn't see it that way. For her everything is black  
and white, no grey areas, no if and buts. Korea doesn't exist the same way   
for her as it does for me. Korea is just a place on the other side of the world.  
A place where she's never been and probably never will go.   
She's angry that it changed me. But it didn't. I've always been the way  
I am now. I've probably always known, deep down. I just needed Korea  
to point it out to me. If it Korea hadn't happened then something else  
would've become my grey area.   
  
I'm happy I found my grey area. I'm happy I still have my grey area after the  
war. I love my grey area. 


	12. Nicknames

This came to me for no reason really. Actually I was listening to Konstantine   
by Something Corporate. My mind works in weird ways. I'm not sure how   
the two (the fic and the song, not my mind) are related. But the line "the   
present is just a pleasant interruption for the past" seems to suit it. Or part  
of it. Or something. Maybe that should be the title.  
There's BJ/ Hawkeye, Trapper/Hawkeye and a bit Hawkeye/Frank and   
BJ/Frank. I don't know where it came from. I really don't. I'm not sure if it's   
any good. But feedback would be great. Also, crappy title, but what ya   
gonna do? :) If anyone can give me a better title, feel free to do so. Also,   
feel free to tell me it's crap, if you think it is. It's also longer than what I've   
done before. And, apparently, I don't own them. Any of them. I don't know   
why not. Anyway, read.  
  
"Nicknames"  
  
I hate him. I hate him so much I wish he was dead. Or even better, I wish   
he'd never been alive. I'm so jealous of him, I'm surprised I'm not as green   
as everything else here. I'm jealous of someone I've never met. Someone   
who doesn't know I exist.  
Someone who's name I don't even know. Well, I know his nickname.   
Trapper. I know the story how he got it. Hawkeye told me. He also told me  
Trapper's real name but I wasn't listening. I don't want to know his real name. I don't want to know anyone's real name.   
Not here.  
  
Calling Hawkeye Ben doesn't work. I tried it once. He just laughed and   
asked why. I said I wanted to hear what it sounded like to say it.  
  
His name can't be real either. I'd hate him even more then. He's less real if I   
only know his nickname.  
  
Nicknames are a wonderful thing, if you think about it. Your given name is   
given to you by someone else. Before you're really you. Most parents decide  
on their childeren's names before they're even born. They heard it   
somewhere and thought it was nice. Sometimes they're lucky and it works.   
It suits the child. And sometimes it still works when the childs grown up. But   
mostly it doesn't. I guess Frank's lucky in that way. All though, Ferret Face   
suits him better. But, I don't think he likes it.  
  
Back when Hawkeye was still Ben he never would've dreamed of being   
called Hawkeye. He wouldn't have turned around if someone called him that.  
But then he got that book, or his father did, or something and it suddenly   
made sense. He wasn't Ben, he was Hawkeye. He always had been.  
He just didn't know it.  
  
I don't have a nickname. Or maybe my name is one. It's just two lettres.   
Maybe my parents gave me that because they knew a real name wouldn't  
work on me. A real name doesn't work on anyone, not forever. Sometimes   
the last name is the perfect first name. The perfect nickname.  
I'd never dream of calling Klinger Max or Maxwell. It wouldn't work. It'd be   
weird. Strange. Klinger is Klinger. He's only Max for his mother. Who gave  
him that name. Same with Radar. It wouldn't work to call him by his given   
name. Just like it wouldn't work for me to think of Trapper as whatever his   
given name is.   
  
Here I am, lying on my bunk. It used to be his bunk. I can still sense him. I   
can feel I wasn't the first here. There's still bits and pieces that were left   
behind. Things that weren't important enough for him to take back. A pen   
that doesn't write anymore. Or a glass he used. I'm using that one now.  
Hawkeye has the pen. It just sits there, unused. But he won't get rid of it.   
I wish I could get rid of everything he ever touched. Redecorate the place.  
Make it Trapperfree. Make it so that no one here remembers who Trapper  
was. Make them think it was always me who was here. But, I can't.   
Whatever I do, there's always something. He hardly ever mentions him now.  
I think he knows it hurts me. He knows how I feel about him. He knows   
how much I hate him. How jealous I am of him. But we never talk about it.  
  
At night, when I'm awake and he's asleep in his own bunk or in mine when   
we're sure Frank's away, I know he dreams about him. About Trapper.  
Sometimes he says his name in his sleep. He mumbles some other things   
aswell but I don't understand those. I don't want to understand. I want him   
to say my name. I don't want him to dream about the past. I want him  
to dream about the present. About me. I dream about him. But I also   
dream of Trapper. I hate that. He's even invaded my dreams. My  
nightmares.  
  
He's back home with his wife and kids, probably not even thinking about   
here. He couldn't even be bothered to leave a note saying goodbye. If I   
would've been him I would've left a note. I would've stayed another day.   
What's one day in an entire lifetime? Trapper hurt Hawkeye by leaving like  
that. That's why he hurt me too. That's why I hate him. That's why I wish  
he didn't exist. I hope I never meet him.  
  
~~~~~~== ~~~~~  
  
I've been home for about 4 months. Maybe longer. It seems like a lifetime   
ago I was in Korea. It is a lifetime ago. I tried to write a note. I did.   
But I didn't know what to say. What do you say at a time like that? I   
wanted to write him a lettre from here, to apologise for leaving like that.   
But, I'm not sorry I'm gone. I didn't enjoy being in the middle of a war. No   
one does.  
  
I did enjoy being with Hawkeye.   
  
I still haven't written him. I don't think I ever will. He hasn't written me   
either. I wonder if he's knows I'm still alive. I wonder if he's still alive.   
Something might've happened. One second you're there and the next   
you're gone. Especially in places like that.   
They must've got a replacement for me. Some other doctor, maybe regular  
army, maybe drafted like I was. Like Hawkeye was.  
  
I wonder if he thinks about me, the new one.  
He probably hates me. He had to leave his family so I could go back to   
mine. I'm sorry about that. I wouldn't wish that on anyone. Not even my   
worst enemy.   
  
I left bits and pieces there. Things for Hawkeye to remember me by.   
Useless things, really. An empty pen. I didn't leave him a note. I did write  
him. Well, I started. That's how the pen got empty.   
  
I thought of leaving him that kiss at the last second. At the time it seemed   
like the perfect way. I wonder if Radar gave him it. I wonder if he gave  
him it the way I wanted to give it. Probably not. But, I think Hawkeye knew   
how it was supposed to be.  
  
I don't know the new guy but I hate him all the same. He has more right to   
hate me than the otherway round but I do. I can't help it. He has Hawkeye   
now. I don't even know his name. Maybe they don't even get on. I hope   
they don't. But I also hope they do.  
I want Hawkeye to be happy. He needs someone there. Frank can only be   
a temporary solution. I hope, for Hawkeye's sake, he isn't anything  
like Frank. I hope he's like me. I hope he loves Hawkeye the way I did. The  
way I do. I hope he can make Hawkeye happy. As happy as you can get in   
a place like that.  
  
I hope he hates me as much as I hate him. 


	13. Why?

"Why?"  
  
Promises, promises, promises. Life is full of promises. Most of them are   
unkept.  
Just the other day I promised one the wounded he'd be ok. An hour later he   
was dead.  
Trapper promised he'd never leave me there alone. We'd be together untill   
the end. A month later he was gone.  
Henry Blake was going to go home. he promised his family he'd be back.  
He never made it back.  
Promises don't do any good. Promises are evil.   
Making a promise is almost saying you know it won't happen. Something'll   
come in between and ruin it. Something will happen to change the promise,  
to make it impossible to keep.   
That's why one shouldn't make promises with people they care about. If I   
hadn't promised that corporal he'd be ok, then maybe, he wouldn't've died.   
And if Trapper hadn't promised he'd never leave me then maybe he  
wouldn't have. And if Henry never had promised his family he'd be back,   
then maybe, he would've been back. And then he could've walked in his  
house shouting "surprise". But, because of those damn promises, that can't  
happen.  
So why did I promise BJ we'd be together forever? Why did I promis BJ I'd  
never leave him? Why did I kiss him and promise everything'd be ok?  
Why? 


	14. I hear, I see, I feel

Hawkeye/Bj, Radar's POV.  
  
"I hear, I see, I feel."  
  
I hear things no one else hears.  
I hear the choppers long before anyone else does.  
I hear the cries of the wounded long before they get here.  
I hear the voices of animals.   
I hear the thoughts of other people as though they were talking. I try not to  
listen.  
  
I also see things others don't see. Or at least I don't think they see them.  
I've never really asked, so I can't know for sure.  
I see different colours hovering round people. Everyone's is different. I can   
tell how they're feeling. Happy or sad, scared, nervous, sick, whatever.  
  
For as long as Frank was here Margaret's was annoyed, sometimes bored  
but never happy. When she was married it changed and she was happy for  
a short while, then it changed to sad and hurt. Since she got divorced it's  
been more happy again.  
  
Klinger's is always happy. I think "happy" isn't a strong enough word for   
Klinger's. I guess he's too busy trying to get that section 8 to be anything  
else. Or maybe it's part of his big masterplan; if you're that happy in the  
middle of a war, you must be insane.  
  
With Charles it's confusing. He changes a lot. I've noticed he's happiest when  
only Hawkeye or only BJ are around him. He gets nervous and maybe  
even a little upset when they're both around him. I'm not sure why.  
  
Both Hawkeye's and Bj's are amazing. Especially when they're together.  
Once they're colours ran into each other. I had never seen anything like it.  
It was in the messtent. They were sitting next to each other and they both  
reach for the saltpot at the same time. As their hands touched, their  
colours merged into one.   
They looked at each other and smiled.   
I wonder if they felt it.  
I felt it. 


	15. See if I care

Hawkeye/Trapper after Trapper's gone.  
drabble, it's 100 words exactly. ::claps::  
  
"See if I care".  
So you left.   
See if I care.   
I go away for a while on R&R, I come back and you're gone.   
See if I care.   
You couldn't even be bothered to leave me a note.   
See if I care.  
Do you think a lousy kiss will make it ok?   
It does not. It really makes it worse. Much worse.   
See if I care.  
You've gone back to your wife and your two pretty little kids and you've left  
me here.   
See if I care.  
Have you seen how much I care?  
Because I do.   
I care. A lot. I really do. 


	16. Sleeping with

This was supposed to be a five minute fic but it turned in to a drabble. It did   
take five minutes to write, so /i it is a five minute fic.  
But it's also a drabble.  
  
"Sleeping with..."  
Sleeping with you night after night, you'd think I'd be used to it by now.  
But I am not used to it and I don't think I will ever get used to it.  
I'll never get used to the fact that it feels right. Perfect even.  
And I'm scared that when I finally do get used to it, the war'll be over.  
Then I'll have to go back to my wife and get used to not sleeping with you  
anymore.  
I don't want to get used to that.   
I don't ever want to get used to you not holding me. 


	17. Memories

Short. Don't really like it. Either BJ or Trapper POV but I suppose it could also be Hawkeye's.  
  
Feedback, I want to get it, you want to give it.  
  
"Memories"  
  
In time we'll forget about this. We'll forget about the pain, the terror, the wounded. They'll all be pushed further and further back in our minds untill they're so far away they'll be a distant memory. Something that maybe didn't even happen. We'll confuse our stories with other peoples because they're all so similar. They're all full of horror and pain.  
  
But while we forget about the bad things the good things will stay with us. The happy times. The times inbetween floods of wounded when were in the Swamp drinking the homemade gin. That gin was terrible but also wonderful.  
  
We'll remember the times we spent together in the supply room and the few occasions we were in Tokyo together.  
  
Those memories will always stay with us and they won't be confused with other people's. 


	18. Forget

Trapper or BJ's POV.   
  
"Forget"  
  
In time you'll realise how much you mean to me. You'll know how much I think of you when I'm scared and alone. You'll know how much I miss your arms around me at night when the last shell is louder than the first. In time you'll know how I could've never survived without you. You'll know how you saved my life a million times just by being there at the right time. Just by giving me a hug and a kiss and saying you loved me.   
  
You say that when all this is over I'll go back to my wife and forget about this. Forget about you. Forget about what we had. Have.  
  
I'll never forget. We'll always have it.   
  
In time you'll realise that too. 


	19. We'll remember

"We'll remember"  
  
In the future this place, where our tents are, will be bare and empty.   
  
If someone passes here a day after we've gone or a year after, they won't have any idea what we did. They won't know what happened. What was said.   
  
They won't taste the gin or smell the food.  
  
They won't see the blood or the wounded.  
  
The spot where the supply tent stood will be just as bare and empty for them as any other spot in the area.  
  
But it'll be different for us. Because, even we never come back after the war, we won't remember it as bare and empty. We'll remember it how it was. How we lived here for what seems like forever. We'll remember the Swamp, the still, our bunks. We'll remember the supply tent and we'll especially remember what we did there. We'll remember the bad smell of the food and the stench of blood. We'll remember every single face of every single wounded soldier who passed through here.  
  
Even if we never come back, we'll always remember. 


	20. Happy

"Happy"  
  
In the future I'll probably hate you, even though I don't want to. I'll try not to but everytime I think of you, I'll get feelings of hate and jealousy. I think I'll feel more jealousy than hatred. You'll have what I have now except you'll have it forever. I can only have it here, in a warzone.  
  
Your husband loves me, he told me. He tells me often but he also says that he's going back to you. And ofcource, he has to go back to you. Back to you and your lovely daughter.   
  
He could never not go back. I wouldn't allow it either. Nothing can ever come of us in the future. What we have now, will cease to exist when we're back home. You'll have him back again. You'll be happy again. He'll be happy again. And I, I'll be left all alone. But, I don't mind. Not really. Because all I want is for him to be happy. I'd do anything for him to be happy. Now, though he misses you, he's happy. I make him happy now.   
  
I wish I could make him happy for longer than the time the war lasts, but I can't. One day soon it'll all be over and then it's your turn again.  
  
Now, he's mine and I'm not giving him back. 


	21. So be it

Could be BJ's POV, could be Trapper's POV.   
  
Feedback, please.  
  
"So be it"  
  
A friend in need you try and help. You do what ever you can so that this friend is happy or has whatever they want or need. And if that means cheating on your wife who's on the other side of the world, then so be it.  
  
And if my wife on the other side of the world can't handle it, then also so be it.   
  
I need this. He needs it. I'm not sure who needs it more, him or me.   
  
If we wouldn't be here we might've never met and if we had we probably wouldn't've needed each other the way we do now. I'm not sure why we do. Not really.  
  
I always feel guilty after. But not guilty enough not to do it again.   
  
We'd both do insane. I'm sure of it. Loosing my mind isn't worth it. I need that. My mind's a valuable thing. And if doing what I'm, we're, doing make us both stay sane, then so be it.  
  
If she can't understand that, then I don't care. Well, I do, a little. Ofcource I do. I do love her. Maybe I even love her more than I did before I came here. Maybe not. Feelings are confusing here. I'm not sure whether to laugh or cry half the time.   
  
Hawkeye's always there for me, no matter what. I'm always there for him, no matter what. I'd do anything for him. I'd jump on a mine and blow up if it could save him. I'm sure he'd do the same for me. Everyone here would understand why I'd do that. Why I'd do that for Hawkeye but not for anyone else. I couldn't do it for anyone else. Hawkeye means everything to me. Right now and here he means more to me than my wife. I feel terrible thinking that, but it's true. Home, over there, doesn't seem real anymore. It seems like it's nothing more than figment of my imagination. Something I read in a book or so in movie. It's something I know I loved at one time or another. It's something I know I'll learn to love again when we're away from all this death and destruction. Now I can't though.  
  
We need this. I need this and he needs it. And if she doesn't like it, then so be it. 


	22. Duck!

Not really worthy of the word "chapter".  
  
Short, extremely short and pointless and funny. Well, I think it's funny.  
  
"Duck! It's a duck! It's only a duck. No one saw us doing anything."  
  
"Except a duck."  
  
"And he quaks Korean so he doesn't know what we were saying."  
  
"Thank God. He looks a little young to understand what we were saying."  
  
"He also looks a little young to understand what we were doing."  
  
"Let's hope we haven't messed that poor duck's mind up. Now, where were we?"  
  
"You only have one thing on your mind, Hawk. The same as me. We were right there. Now, shoo, Duck, shoo." 


	23. Once upon a time

"Once upon a time"  
  
Once upon a time there was a surgeon who was living far far away from home in a place called Korea. He was told to go there by the Army who weren't really very nice people. This surgeon stayed in a MASH and there he had to mend broken soldiers. After they were mended he sent them on their way, ready to get broken again. Sometimes they came back, sometimes they didn't. He was always very happy when no one came to be mended. He didn't like being there and he really wanted to home again but as long as he was there he lived in tent called the Swamp. He shared this tent with two other surgeons. One of these surgeons was his best friend. Some would even say there were more than best friends. They did everything together. Really, everything. This surgeon's name was Hawkeye. This wasn't his real name. Hawkeye also didn't like being there but he'd also been forced to go by the Army. Hawkeye and BJ, which was the first surgeon's name, did lots of things they weren't supposed to do. They had a still. The stuff that came out of the still was really bad but they drank it anyway. After they drank it they'd get drunk and do silly things. They'd walk around camp with their arms hooked together so they wouldn't fall over. They'd sing silly songs and tell silly jokes to whoever was or wasn't around to hear. They'd complain about how they wanted to go home, about how unfair it was that they were forced to live here. But secretely they actually quite liked it. Escpecially when there wasn't anything broken. Then they'd go hide in the Supply tent. No one knew what they did on the Supply tent but they knew they had lots of fun. 


	24. Poetry

"Poetry"  
  
"Hold your breath, count to 10, turn around, do it again."  
  
"Hold your breath, count to 10, turn around, do it again."  
  
"Hold your breath, count to 10, turn around, do it again."  
  
"Hold your breath, count to 10, turn around, do it again."  
  
"Pierce? Will you stop that? I'm trying to listen to Bach."  
  
"Stop? Stop what?"  
  
"The pacing around the tent. And what's that you keep saying? Some kind of poem?"  
  
"Hold your breath, count to 10, turn around, do it again?"  
  
"Yes, that. Please, stop it. If I want to hear poetry I'll go some place else. Not that I'd find anything in this dump."  
  
"So you're lucky to have me."  
  
"What? How?"  
  
"If I wasn't here reciting my little poem you wouldn't be hearing any poetry. Good or bad. I wrote this one myself, by the way."  
  
"I never would've guessed."  
  
"Hold your breath, count to 10, turn around, do it again."  
  
"Hold your breath, count to 10, turn around, do it again."  
  
"Pierce?"  
  
"What now?"  
  
"Go hassle BJ"  
  
"I wish I could but he doesn't want me. I didn't hold my breath or count to 10 and now he doesn't want me anymore."  
  
"What? Are you ok, Pierce?"  
  
"Hold your breath, count to 10, turn around, do it again." 


	25. Moments

"Moments"  
  
Packing my bags, I am. I'm packing my bags. Yes, those bags, they'll be packed. Except I wish they wouldn't be. I'm doing everything I can to drag it out because really, deep down, I don't want to leave. I don't leave you. I can't imagine how it would be without you near me. How this would've been without you near me almost all of the time.  
  
I've packed bags a lot these past however long I've been here. I can't really remember how long; I lost count after the third day. Or was it the fourth? Usually they were packed quickly and carelesly because we were bugging out. My stuff got thrown in with yours and yours with mine and it didn't matter because we were both going to the same place. We were together and we'd stay together for as long as this took. And after that? That seemed so far away, so impossible, we couldn't even bare to think about. And now, here it is. I'm busy packing. Getting ready to leave all this behind. I don't have much things to pack because I already left once, you see.  
  
The last time I was packing this slowly was when I was packing to come to this place. I didn't want to leave and come to that "hellhole on the otherside of the world". I still think of this place as "the other side of the world". I also think of it as hell, still. I always will. But you make it liveable. You keep me sane. I don't think I can live without you anymore. I need you.I need you here, in hell. I'll need you back home. Is it still home? But, here I am packing my bags. Leaving you. I'm leaving you tomorrow. You're leaving me tomorrow. We'll never see each other again. That's why I have to make sure it takes as long as humanely possible to pack these bags. Even if it means unpacking them again. And again and again. Anything to make it last longer. Anthing to make these last few moments with you last longer. It's all we have, some moments here and there. A lifetime of moments, it seems. I don't want it to end.  
  
Maybe I'll put something of yours in with my stuff. Or I'll put something of mine in with yours. You'll discover you're missing something or that you've got something you shouldn't and then we'll see each other again and I won't have to live without you anymore.  
  
We'll have our moments again. 


	26. You

"You"  
  
Free. It's a pretty word, isn't? I always thought I was. Free, that is. Not pretty. Even though some people would say otherwise. But, when I think about it, I realise I'm not. Not at all. I haven't lost any limbs and I won't have to depend on other people to get about. I haven't broken any laws so I'm not locked up. Although, that probably wouldn't be such a bad idea. Maybe it'd help clear my head a bit because right now there's only one thing in it.   
  
You.  
  
You're the only thing I want. You're the only one I want to see or talk to sometimes. I never thought I'd say this but you're the only one I could imagine myself having a future with.   
  
To make matters worse, I can never tell you. They wouldn't understand. You wouldn't understand. You'd never leave your wife. I know I can never have you but that doesn't stop me wanting you. All we can ever be is friends. I guess I'm lucky we're best friends. Aren't best friends supposed to be able to say everything to each other? Everything they think and feel and want?  
  
I want to kiss you. I want to grab you, in the middle of the messtent and kiss you and tell you I love you. I can't do that, though. No one would understand and we'd both get kicked out of here. That would be perfect but your life would be ruined, that would be dreadful. Mine's already ruined so it doesn't matter.   
  
The only person I can tell this to is myself and I'm even getting fed up hearing my self think about you. I really do have a one track mind. Just not the kind everyone thinks.  
  
If I can't have you, I can't be happy and if I can't be happy I'll never be free to do what I want.   
  
If I can't be free then what's the point of anything? 


	27. Angels

I don't really like this but it's exactly 100 words so I gave myself a cookie for that.  
  
Feedback would be wonderful.   
  
"Angels"  
  
Angels aren't real? Are they?   
  
Angels can't be real. Can they?   
  
It's not possible. It just can't be possible. It can't be. It can't, dammit.   
  
So why am I living with one?   
  
Why am I sharing every waking and sleeping moment with one in this hellhole of a place?  
  
Angels shouldn't be here. Having an angel here is irony at its best.   
  
Angels belong in heaven. In places with white fluffy clouds and pretty rainbows.   
  
They don't belong here. In a place where pain and destruction is common.   
  
Hell wasn't made for Angels.   
  
I am happy I have one here. 


	28. Crazy without you

Extremely short.   
  
"Crazy without you"  
  
If I don't leave now I'll never go.  
  
But I can't go. They won't let me.  
  
I won't let me.  
  
I can't stay either. But I have to.  
  
I'll go crazy if I stay.  
  
I'll lose my mind.  
  
I'll lose you if I go.  
  
So I'll stay and I'll lose my mind and they'll probably have to lock me up one day but at least I'll have you.  
  
Untill you leave me, that is. 


	29. To grab and throw away

"To grab and throw away"  
  
Elements of the truth. Do they fly around like little dustparticles for everyone to just grab and treasure or throw away forever?  
  
Or are they a part of us, like our organs, bones and blood? Are they hidden away in our subconscious, only there for us? Each element only belonging to one. Or is it for everyone just to grab and throw away?  
  
Is there a choice? To tell or not to tell?   
  
Are some truths meant to be shared with others? Do we know before we've even met someone that they'll know a truth? Does it only click once you meet and get to know each other?  
  
When all the necessary people know all the elements of a certain truth should they keep it to themselves? Should everything shared truth be kept for just the ones it belongs to? Or should it be shared with others? With the world? With just a select few? Should it be shared with them even if it hurts them, ruins everything for them? Or should it, for that reason alone, be kept hidden far away?  
  
So many questions. No answers at all. 


	30. Great grit

Short drabblethingy.  
  
"Great grit"  
  
"Grit. It's grit."  
  
"What? What's great?"  
  
"Not great. Grit. With an i."  
  
"What's grit, with an i and not great?"  
  
"The soup. There's grit in it."  
  
"And it's not great?"  
  
"Do you think the grit is great?"  
  
"I hadn't really noticed the grit or great it was but now you mention it...no, this is not great grit."  
  
"Well, I know I've had better."  
  
"Grit or soup?"  
  
"Both." 


	31. In gin lies the answer

"In gin lies the answer"  
  
"You're losing your mind, Hawk", if he hadn't been told this a million times, he hadn't been told it once. Not that been told this made any difference. It was nothing new, after all.  
  
Hawk wasn't losing his mind; he'd lost it long before today. Long before the first time he was told he was losing it. Maybe he'd never even had it. Was it even his to lose? Did anybody own their own mind? Like one might own a cup or a house or a book? But not everyone has a cup or a house or a book, so why would everyone own a mind?   
  
Nobody could really be sure. Maybe his thoughts and ideas belonged to all his patients, all the wounded soldiers, that arrived and left again before you got a chance to blink. Maybe he did have one and he just misplaced it.   
  
He didn't need a mind. Not here, not really. It was much easier without. He'd put himself on automatic a long time ago. Sometimes he tried to turn the automatic off but then he would just splutter and stop. He'd give a long speech about nothing and everything at the same time and no one would be any the wiser after. That scared him. He would never admit to this because that scared him even more.   
  
He wasn't sure what he'd done or said this time for someone to remind him again and it didn't really matter. The person who had informed him of this had probably forgotten by now. He was pouring in another gin and drinking it really slowly. As though it might be his last.   
  
The other person gave him a glass and Hawkeye stared at it.  
  
"What? Are you hoping to find the answer to all of life's mysteries?"  
  
"Maybe", he thought. "Maybe it does hold all the answers."  
  
Maybe it was holding his mind. 


	32. Bad food and mines

"Bad food and mines"  
  
"Don't forget to remember me and think about me once in a while." He'd written the message on a little note, screwed it up and hid it in a little corner of BJ's bag. There wasn't really much chance that he'd find it. And Hawkeye didn't mind that because he knew Bj knew he thought it.  
  
Great minds think alike and all that.  
  
What Hawkeye didn't know, or maybe he did, was that BJ had hidden a similar note in Hawkeye's bag. It said: "Don't forget me. And remember this: We'll always have Korea. With all its bad food and mines. 


	33. A day like any other

"A day like any other"  
  
September the seventh today. A day just like any other.  
  
Some mortal combat on a hill with only a number for a name.   
  
Some ridiculously young kids get hurt and some die.   
  
Some of those unfortunate kids come here.   
  
Maybe some of those die. We patch the ones up that don't.   
  
Some of them are lucky and get to go home to see their friends and family again.  
  
Some of them aren't so lucky and go to some other hill with some other number.   
  
Maybe they end up here again.   
  
On a day like today.  
  
Then after a very long day in the office there's the wonderful still. There's the great movies on movienight. Topquallity food in a fivestar messtent and extremely comfortable beds waiting for us and our dreams about happy people in beautiful places.   
  
Tomorrow will be exactly the same.   
  
Just a day like any other. 


	34. Closure

Written for a challenge. Charles/Trapper.  
  
"Closure"  
  
Dear John,  
  
I was most suprised to hear you had been here; in hell. Otherwise know as M*A*S*H 4077.  
  
I was not most suprised to hear you had left without any kind of goodbye. Bad habit you have there, isn't?  
  
It's been a while since I last heard of you. I think it was highschool. Yes, must've been highschool. As after highschool I went to Harvard and you, well, didn't. I actually never heard of again untill a few days ago.  
  
I missed you. I missed you terribly.  
  
That summer, after we had graduated, I went round to your house quite a few times but your mother always told me you were out. I wrote you an unbelieveable amount of times. You must have had them and read at least some of them. But I didn't get one reply. Not one phonecall or message. Nothing.   
  
Didn't it mean anything to you? Everything we had? Did I really mean so little to you that you could just forget me? That hurt, John.  
  
You must be wondering how I got your address and why the hell I'm writing you after all these years.  
  
The answer to the first question is simple, Hawkeye Pierce.  
  
Ofcource you know he's here. Yes, he's still here. I'm not your replacement, in any kind of way, in case you wondering. Your replacement is your replacement in every kind of way, in case you were wondering.  
  
Pierce hasn't told me in so many words but I can guess what you two had in college and here. I haven't told him what we had in highschool but I'm more than sure he's worked it out.  
  
So Hawkeye gave your address. He said, if I wrote you, to say "hi". Well, there, I've said it. "Hi".  
  
The answer to my own second question? I don't know. I don't know why I'd want to write you. Why I'd want to put myself through this misery again. Closure, maybe? I doubt I'll even get that.  
  
I wonder if you'll even read this? You'll probably throw it out, scared your wife will find it and start asking questions.  
  
Yes, Pierce told me you were married. Also told me you have two daughters. I'm sure you love them both. I'm sure you're very happy being married even if it is a cover up for who you really are.  
  
Does she know? Your wife? Does she have any idea what you and I did in highschool? What we had? Or what you and Hawkeye had? And God knows how many others you've had on the side. Or is it your wife that's on the side?  
  
Do you realise how many people you've hurt by doing what you've done, what you're probably doing right now?  
  
As I've already said, I'm not your replacement. I can only go by what others have said to tell you how Hawkeye was when you first left. Devastated is an understatement. He still hasn't managed to get over you. I think I'm starting to but I have had some more time.  
  
I wrote in the beginning of this lettre that I wasn't suprised to hear you had left the one you supposedly loved without so much as a quick note. Well, suprise me again, write. Write to both of us.  
  
No matter what, I hope you are happy with the way you're living your life. I hope your children grow up to be happy and successful. I hope your wife is oblivious of what is going on right in front of her and I hope she too is happy.   
  
I'd like to be able to hate you but I can't. I have tried and tried again.   
  
Loving someone with all your heart isn't the easiest thing to do. I suppose it's the same with hating.   
  
So, on that note, I bid you farewell.  
  
Love, Charles. 


	35. How to be a major

For a challenge: Frank/Trapper  
  
"How to be a major"  
  
  
  
"In case you were wondering, this isn't what it looks like. We weren't doing what you think we were doing. We were just..just, uh, what where we just doing, Frank?"  
  
  
  
"We, uh, I was showing Trap, I mean Captain Trapper...I was showing...uhm...Captain McInTyre how to, uh, be..."  
  
  
  
"...A major. You were showing me how to be a major."  
  
  
  
"A major? Really? I was?  
  
  
  
"Yeah, I'm thinking of getting promoted. Should be fun."  
  
  
  
"Major Burns was showing Captain McIntyre how to be a major?  
  
  
  
"That's right, Radar."  
  
  
  
"Ok, except it didn't look like that to me. Last time I saw you doing that, Captain, you were with Hawkeye and Hawkeye isn't a major. Are you sure, sir?"  
  
  
  
"Corporal, are you a major?"  
  
  
  
"What? No, sir, major. I'm a corporal, not a major, sir...major."  
  
  
  
"So how would you know how to show someone else how to be one?"  
  
  
  
"I don't, then, I guess, sir, major. I'll see you later sirs, Captain McIntrye and Major Burns. 


	36. Not a place like this

"Not a place like this"  
  
The Chinese musicians are gone.   
  
They'll never play again. They'll never be heard again.   
  
Not by anyone. Ever again.  
  
One minute they were here, playing and the next they were gone.  
  
As though they'd never been here in the first place.  
  
As though the notes that were played had never been played, had never been heard.  
  
As though it had all existed in my head. Maybe not even there. But in a magical place.   
  
A place where there's peace and harmony and happiness.  
  
A place that everyone can enjoy without the danger of getting killed.  
  
Not a place like this. 


	37. Ten lousy minutes

"Ten lousy minutes"  
  
"See at you at the next reunion. Couldn't stay. Sorry."  
  
That was it. Scribbled on a bit of paper. He hadn't even signed it.  
  
He was only ten minutes late. Ten lousy minutes. Surely he could've waited. It wasn't like he had a plane to catch. Or a war to get away from.  
  
It had already been more than five years since he'd been ten minutes late the first time.   
  
Now again.  
  
This time, at least, he'd left hime a note. Even if it was only one line.  
  
One line for five years. Not much really.   
  
Not anything, really.  
  
It was his own fault, Hawkeye decided. If he would've left home ten minutes earlier. Or if he would've driven just that bit faster. Skipped a red light or two. Then maybe he would've caught him and he wouldn't be sitting in a corner with a scribbled note and a glass of champagne someone had handed him.  
  
He'd touched the lettres on the note so many times that they'd started to fade. But it didn't matter. He could dip it in the still full champagne glass or chew it in to a ball and throw up to the ceiling, he'd never forget the words on it. Not as long as he lived.  
  
He'd never forget walking in the room, Radar coming towards him and saying:"Trapper asked me to give you this." He had half expected to get a kiss and Trapper then appear from behind a curtain. Smiling, happy to see him again.  
  
But all he got was a note.  
  
A one lined note was all he was worth.  
  
A one lined note to cover more than five years.  
  
A one lined note for being ten minutes late.  
  
Ten lousy minutes. 


End file.
